


Patater Week 2017

by editingatwork



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Patater Week, get-together, prompts, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-22 16:18:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9615683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/editingatwork/pseuds/editingatwork
Summary: Things I wrote for Patater week (Feb '17).





	1. Feb. 6- Get Together

They literally slam into each other at a roller rink.

It’s a You Can Play benefit thing for kids. Kent’s too busy watching to make sure he doesn’t run over one of the mini-tots that he completely misses the giant headed in his direction. And you would _think_ , wouldn’t you, that a guy whose career involved balancing on knives on ice would take a check on roller skates as well as he did in an ice rink, but nope. Kent hits Alexei Mashkov head-on and sends them both into a pile on the ground.

The icing on the cake is Kent’s arm clotheslining a six-year-old on the way down.

So now he and Tater are both sitting on the side of the roller skating rink, holding matching cold packs to their faces while a small child stuffs tissues up his nose to stop the bleeding.

“I’mb gonna tell everybody at school that Kent Parsob hit by face!” the kid tells Kent happily, oblivious to his dad’s efforts to keep him from talking and thereby snorting blood everywhere.

Kent gives him a weak thumbs up. At his side, Alexei makes a noise that might actually be a giggle.

“You so cute with kids,” Alexei says.

 _Damn language barriers_ , Kent thinks.  “You mean I’m good with kids. And I’m not that great. They just like me because I’m ridiculous.”

“You are very ridiculous,” Alexie agrees. “But I’m choose right word, ‘cute.’ You are cute being with kids.”

Kent thinks the head-on collision must have knocked something loose in _both_ their heads. He twists sideways and gapes, the effect of which is probably lost due to the ice pack covering half his face. “I’m sorry. _What_ did you just say?”

The answer comes from the bloody-nosed kid’s dad. “He said you were cute.”

Alexei nods. “Yes. I’m say that.”

Kent spares a confused glance at the busybody dad and then goes back to gaping ineffectively at Alexei. “Okay, then. _Why?_ ”

Alexei’s nose scrunches in an adorable fashion that cannot be legal. “Because I’m think so? Should I ask you out first before give compliments?”

The dad tugs more tissues out of a box and hands them to his son, meanwhile shaking his head. “No, compliments are a good start. People are more receptive to coffee and dinner invitations of you butter them up first.”

Alexei brightens. “Ah, that’s good! Kent, do you want go have coffee with me? Or dinner, maybe?”

Kent’s too busy wondering when the _hell_ Alexei Mashkov developed a crush on him to respond.

Not-helpful-at-all-Dad mutters, “Say yes. He must like you a lot if he’s asking you out after you gave him a black eye.”

Kent knows this is a PR op and he needs to be nice. Still. “Dude,” he says, because the dad can’t be much older than Kent. “Thanks, but I got this.”

The dad snorts. “You sound like my other son. I love him, but he has zero game. His mother’s working on him. In the meantime, tell Mr. Mashkov ‘yes,’ so I can go home and tell a teenage boy who uses a poster of your face for dart practice that I watched you get asked out with a split lip and a bruise the size of Montana on your forehead.”

Alexei is grinning. “Make man happy, Kent. Is for charity.”

“Also,” the dad says, handing over a glossy photo of Kent in his Aces gear. “Can you sign this for Tommy, here? Since you busted his nose, and all?”

Bloody-nosed Tommy gasps. “I’mb gonna bring it to show and tell!”

Kent is very obviously out-numbered. He sighs, puts the cold pack down, and takes the photo.

_To Tommy, the toughest guy on skates I ever saw._

When Tommy’s dad reads it to him, Tommy is so excited that he almost sneezes the tissues out of his nose.

“So?” Alexei asks. “Coffee? Dinner?” He looks a little apprehensive and Kent realizes he hasn’t actually answered, yet.

Kent puts the ice pack back on his forehead and smiles through the throbbing pain and stinging cold. “Yeah. Let’s have coffee. After all, it’s for charity.”


	2. Feb. 7- Proposal

It was supposed to be a romantic camping getaway. Instead, they’re tearing the campsite apart as fast as possible because the radio announced a freak blizzard on the way and snowflakes are already billowing down.

They manage to get everything in the car and drive out of the woods without getting stuck in a forming snowdrift.

Alexei drives, because they’re in Canada, the car is a rental, and of the two of them, he’s the one with an international driver’s license.

(”Can’t believe you have passport but not international driver’s license, Kent. What you do when you playing in Vancouver? Or Montreal?”

“I go back to the hotel after the game and I  _sleep.”_ )

Alexei is calm but Kent is scrunched down in the passenger’s seat, seething. Alexei thinks the glower is darker than warranted, but he does kind of understand Kent’s annoyance. The camping trip was his idea. A just-over-two-years anniversary trip, since their actual anniversary was in the middle of playoffs due to their having hooked up during All Stars weekend one time and managing to admit mutual feelings of “like” around the time they realized they might be facing off for the cup.

They hadn’t, but the Skype call regarding that issue had been enlightening, to say the least.

“Is okay, Kent,” Alexei says as the windshield wipers zip across his vision and the road before him turns increasingly white. “We try again, yes? Maybe go back out tomorrow, if weather clears?”

Kent grumbles and buries his nose deeper in his coat. He’s cold-blooded and gets chills if a cool breeze blows by. Alexei loves it, because it gives him the excuse to wrap Kent up in Alexei’s warm arms all the time. Now, he pats Kent’s leg. But Kent’s not having it. He grumbles again and says, “No way this’ll clear up by tomorrow. Next week, maybe.”

“So we re-schedule our flights home,” Alexei says. He takes his hand back, because a responsible driver always has two hands on the wheel. “Stay in hotel until snow is gone. No big deal—”

And that is the moment one of their tires blows out.

“ _Shit!”_  Alexei yells. The car careens across the slippery road, unbalanced and barely responding to Alexei’s hands on the steering wheel. He hears Kent shout in alarm. They’re both wearing seatbelts, but that doesn’t kill instinct; the second Alexei sees the lip of the ditch, he flings an arm out to brace Kent as they go over.

It is, thank God, a very shallow ditch.

Alexei still gets hit in the chest and the arm with both his and Kent’s airbags. He hears, more than feels, his arm pop out of its socket as it’s wrenched at a bad angle.

When the car finally stops moving, they’re nose-first in a shallow drainage ditch, barely at an angle but definitely stuck. The engine is still running, the radio still humming softly in the background and warm air still blowing out of the vents. Alexei tries to move his arm out from between Kent and the airbag and makes a soft sound of pain instead.

“Don’t move it.” Kent’s voice is tight but calm. “It might be broken.”

“Is not broken. Think maybe is dislocated. I’m had before, feels the same.”

“That is only mildly better,” Kent says. “Okay, let’s get it in a sling. I’m gonna call for an ambulance and a tow truck but I don’t think they’ll be out here any time soon.”

So Kent calls, and Alexei uses a scarf as a makeshift sling. Kent digs out the first aid kit and has Alexei swallow two painkillers. Then Kent goes outside with a ziplock bag and stuffs it full of snow. Once back in the car, he places it gingerly on Alexei’s shoulder. Alexei tries not to flinch. He’s always been sensitive to pain. It makes his chosen profession seem a little silly, sometimes, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Kent knows both of these things about him. He kisses Alexei’s temple in sympathy and murmurs, “So brave for me, babe.”

Alexei hums and leans his head against Kent’s. Kent gets as close as he’s able, given the sensitivity of Alexei’s arm, and combs his chilled fingers through Alexei’s hair.

Outside, the snow continues to come down in sheets. It muddles visibility like heavy fog, blanketing the natural landscape and making Alexei feel a bit like they’re slowly being buried alive. Thank God for GPS, or else nobody would find them for hours. At least the car is still warm. They’ve got plenty of gas and tons of water and food. They’ll probably be out of here within the next hour or so.

It’s a bad situation but nothing to worry about. Still, Alexei catches sight of Kent’s face and is heartbroken at the misery he sees.

“I be okay,” he says. “ _Kenochek_.Listen. We are okay. Is bad day, but we are okay. Don’t be looking so sad.”

Kent lets out a tight breath he must have been holding. “I just can’t believe our weekend is ending like this. It was going to be perfect, and then... all this shit.”

“All this shit,” Alexei agrees. “But we are okay.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. We’re okay.” Kent settles back into his seat. “I just... It was going to be  _perfect_.”

Alexei chuckles. He regrets it a little, because it makes his shoulder tense and  _ow_ , that hurts. “You say like isn’t perfect, anyway. You’re here. I’m here. Could be alone, in ditch on side of small road in woods of Canada. I’m not. You’re not.” Kent is looking at him like Alexei is revealing words from God, so he smiles and adds, “Anywhere we are together, I’m think it’s perfect.”

“Yeah,” Kent breathes. “Yeah, you’re right. And you know what? Fuck it.” He straightens up and starts digging through his coat pockets. When he finds nothing, he unzips it and searches through his hoodie and jeans. “Of course I left it in my suitcase. No, fuck it,” he repeats, and meets Alexei’s baffled gaze. “You’re right. It’s—anywhere I’m with you, it’s perfect. And I had this all planned out, it was gonna be—but you’re right. So I’m not gonna go another day without saying this.”

Alexei feels an anticipatory thrill run through him. And then Kent says, “I love you. You are the best thing that has happened to me in god knows how long. You make me happier than I thought I could be, after—after Jack. And I don’t just mean all the things you do, the chirpy Tweets and late-night calls and that time you sent me flowers after  _every single game we lost_  last year until we won again. I mean how you make me feel like I can make  _you_  happy. I always feel like I have to work so hard to be me, to be Kent Parson, and with you I feel like I never have to try. You make me...” 

Kent huffs a wet laugh and wipes his eyes. Alexei feels his own eyes go wide. “Babe,” Kent says, “you make me feel perfect.”

“You are perfect,” Alexei says, overwhelmed. Kent rarely lays himself bare, at least in words. What brought this on? The accident? Alexei is going to be  _fine_.

Kent smiles. “Yeah, see, just like that. I love you so much. So, I know our trip got fucked all to hell and the location is shit and I might not even have the ring, but. Alexei Mashkov, will you marry me?”

Alexei stares at him in shocked silence for a full minute before he realizes he has a line he’s supposed to say. “ _Da_ ,” he says. “ _Da_ —yes. Yes, Kent, yes.”

Kent, being Kent, immediately whoops and almost slams his head into the headrest, and follows that up by impulsively reaching to hug Alexei before it occurs to him at the last possible second why that wouldn’t be a good idea.

So Alexei says, "Just kiss me, Kenochek."

Kent does.

They’re still laughing and kissing when the ambulance finds them twenty minutes later.


	3. Feb. 8- Fake Dating

Kent doesn’t know _why_  he says what he does. Literally any other explanation would have been better. 

Literally. Anything. Else.

But no. Kent is standing outside Alexei Mashkov’s hotel room with a bucket of icy water in his hands, fully prepared to lean it against the door and then quickly knock and ditch, when someone two doors down yells, “Parson? What are you doing here?”

Kent freezes and snaps his head. It’s the goalie, Snowy. The guy’s wearing a frown, which makes sense, because there’s no _reason_  for Kent to be on the Falc’s floor when the Aces’ floor is one down. It’s pure dumb luck that the Falcs hadn’t yet cleared out of Minnesota by the time the Aces had arrived and settled in, and Kent had thought, _Hey, Mashkov’s been ribbing me all over Twitter for the last two months, wouldn’t it be hilarious if I pulled an IRL prank on him?_

That is the exact explanation he should give. The words “I’m pulling a leaner on Mashkov, wanna help?” should come out of his mouth. But they don’t.

Instead, what Kent says is, “I’m making a booty call, duh.”

_What??_

“What?” Snowy’s eyes don’t bug out but he does look poleaxed. “You–And Tater? Since _when?”_

 _“_ None of your fuckin’ business,” Kent says, instead of what he should say, which is “Since never, oh my god you should have seen your face!”

What is he saying? Why is he lying? His hands are going numb from the bucket of ice water and meanwhile he’s sweating bullets under his sweatshirt.

Snowy doesn’t look pleased by the brush-off, but he also looks–apologetic? “Tater’s out,” he says. “He didn’t tell you?”

“I thought I’d surprise him,” Kent says, _still going along with this, why the fuck is he still going along with this lie._  His feet, mercifully, carry him a few steps back from Mashkov’s door and back down the hall in the opposite direction from Snowy. “Guess I’ll head back.”

Confusion is plain on Snowy’s face. “I’ll tell him you stopped by?”

“No, no, I’ll text him, it’s cool!” Kent’s grin might be manic and his voice might be a shade too high. His voice might be several octaves too high. “No need to bother him!”

“If you’re sure–”

“Insanely sure!” Kent waves and _fucking flees_.


	4. Feb. 9- Alternate Universe

Alexei is the first into the cafe at 5am. He unlocks the door, then re-locks it, and heads into the back room. Once he’s gotten himself sorted, he turns on the lights behind the barista counter and grabs a broom to start dusting under the tables and chairs.

He’s only just started when a wet snore from the other end of the cafe has him freezing in his tracks.

“H-hello?” Alexei calls. There’s no reply. At least, not immediately. Another snore filters through the air, echoing off the walls.

Alexei eyes the armchairs and the one sofa squished in the corner, but sees nothing. There’s only the barest hint of morning sun coming through the windows and the lights behind the counter don’t stretch very far. Alexei squats down and squints at the shadows under the tables and chairs.

He sees... something.

Walking closer, he makes out a person curled upon the floor. The person is male, college-aged, and wedged between two of the armchairs with his head pillowed on his backpack and coat pulled halfway over his head. He’s in jeans and a blue sweater. There’s an charger chord attached to the phone in his back pocket.

As Alexei stares, flummoxed, the guy snores again.

“Hey,” Alexei says. The guy doesn’t stir. There are bags under his eyes and his mouth is slack, face pressed into the seam of his bag hard enough that Alexei can see that it’s leaving red lines.

He looks so tired. Alexei has no idea how the night shift missed seeing him when they closed up, nor how this guy didn’t wake up all night and notice he was locked in a cafe.

Or maybe he did wake up and just went back to sleep. With the entire campus in a stressed-out frenzy over upcoming midterms, Alexei would completely understand the logic of catching a full night’s sleep on the floor of a cafe instead of wasting precious time calling the police to let him out.

Well, he’s not hurting anything, and it doesn’t look like he’s stolen anything, either. Alexei considers him for another moment before shrugging and continuing to sweep the cafe floor. Sunlight slowly filters in through the windows and the blinds, streaking the walls and floors in orange mocha colors. Alexei finishes sweeping and takes the broom and dustpan back to the supply closet. He comes back out to the main floor to begin prepping the counter and sees that his guest hasn’t stirred.

He gets about halfway through cleaning the counters, prepping the drip coffees, stocking the condiments counter, and re-filling the syrups when there’s a groan from across the room.

It’s followed by a hard _thump_  as a head collides with the wall. A longer, pained groan follows.

“Good morning,” Alexei calls.

He hears shuffling, and then, “Oh... oh, fuck me.”

Alexei chuckles under his breath.

“Fuck,” the voice repeats, and then the guy clamors unsteadily to his feet. “God, I ache fucking everywhere. What time is it?”

Alexei checks the clock on the wall. “Five-thirty-five. Wednesday.”

“Shee-yit,” the guy moans. “I’ve got a lecture in three hours.” He runs both hands through his hair, which doesn’t do anything except make it stick up even more. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Alexei puts the Vanilla syrup bottle down and cocks his head at him. “For lecture?”

“No, because you found me on the floor.”

Alexei shrugs. “You look tired. You not steal anything, did you?’

“No.”

“So, is no harm letting you sleep.” He goes back to filling the syrup bottle. “I’m just surprise no one find you last night.”

“You and me, both.” The guy sighs, grabs his backpack off the floor, and unhooks his charger to stuff in his pocket. He comes to the counter, walking stiffly and wincing as he rubs his neck. “I feel like shit.”

“You look like shit,” Alexei agrees, though he means it sympathetically. “You want coffee?”

“ _God_  yes. Grande, whatever you’ve got.” He reaches for his wallet but Alexei waves him off.

“Registers not on yet. Drink on the house.”

While Alexei gets the coffee, his guest yawns and scratches his messy hair, and then, in the near-silence of the cafe, his stomach rumbles. Alexei gets a blueberry bagel and brings it over with the coffee.

“On the house,” he repeats when he gets a dubious look at the offering.

The guy chuckles. “Careful. Keep spoiling me, and I’m gonna sleep over in your cafe all the time.”

“I’m not recommend that,” Alexei replies. “Snowy is opening sometimes and he probably kick you until you wake up, then kick you out. He is senior, has no patience for freshmen.”

“I _am_  a senior.”

“Oh,” Alexei says. “Well, I’m junior. Transfer from university in Russia.”

“Welcome to campus, then,” the guy says. He yawns again and sips the coffee, luckily not burning himself on it. “I gotta get going. Thanks for the coffee, man. And for not kicking me awake.”

“Any time.”

“I’m Kent, by the way.” A hand is thrust across the counter and Alexei takes it. 

“Alexei. It’s good to meet you.”

Kent’s hand is warm and friendly, and calloused around the pads. Weekend hobbyist, maybe, but what? They’ve only just met, but Kent’s smile and his hands are nice enough that Alexei hopes he will see him again and get the chance to learn more.

“It’s good to meet you, too,” Kent says. They part hands, and Kent glances around. “I’ll bet my hair’s a mess, you got a bathr--? Oh, ow. Ow, fuck.” He winces and puts a hand to his neck. “I think I pulled something, sleeping on my backpack.”

Alexei frowns. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” He tilts his head from side to side and grimaces. “Well, that’s going to be fun having today.”

Alexei watches Kent rubbing his thumb gently into the muscle of his nape and licks his lips. “Maybe I can help?” He comes around the counter and holds up his hands. “Is something my grandmother used to do.”

Kent blinks at him. “What?”

“Just turn around. I promise I’m not strangle you.”

Kent snorts and turns. Alexei puts his hands on Kent’s shoulders and kneads his thumbs into the base of his neck, rolling the knots around until they soften. He moves up the spine to the base of Kent’s skull, and then works his way out and down under the ears and jaw.

Kent makes a small sound of utter bliss and mutters, “Oh my god, don’t stop.”

Alexei doesn’t, not until he’s gotten rid of all the spots of tension he can find in Kent’s neck and shoulders. The backpack straps got in the way, but that didn’t seem to lessen Kent’s enjoyment. When Alexei drops his hands, he asks, “How are you feel now?”

Kent rolls his head around. “Like _so_  much better. Holy shit, thank you.” He turns around, and maybe it’s just Alexei’s wishful thinking combined with the rosy mauve of sunrise, but Kent’s cheeks look pinker than before. “Your grandma taught you that?”

Alexei nods. “She says taking care of the body is important.”

“Yeah, I fully agree.” Kent looks around the cafe. There’s no one else there, of course, although Alexei’s shift-mate should be arriving soon and a plethora of customers after that. Kent turns back to Alexei and shuffles between his feet. “Look, I know we only just met, and in the strangest way possible, but would you wanna go out for coffee with me sometime? Or--well, maybe not coffee. Um. Burgers, I guess?”

Alexei’s heart skips a hopeful beat. Kent skin is aglow with an earnest blush and the morning sun. Dark circles and mussed hair or not, he is _very_  handsome. “You mean like on date?’

“That is exactly what I mean.”

Alexei’s grin could probably power a city block. “Yes. Yes, okay.”

“Awesome.” Kent is grinning, too. “I have to run, but gimme your cell number and I’ll text you?”

Alexei does. Kent leaves shortly after, coffee and bagel in hand as Alexei unlocks the door to let him out. Ten minutes after that, Jack comes in for his morning shift.

“You’re in a good mood,” Jack says as they do their final checks of the cafe before the mobs of zombie-eyed students arrive. “Something happen?”

“Yes,” Alexei says. “We had squatter sleeping in here overnight, and now I’m have a date!”

Jack stares at him for a long time. “...Okay, back up and explain everything, from the beginning.

Alexei does. He’s smiling the whole time.

**Author's Note:**

> i exist in a trash-dimension on [tumblr](http://punmasterkentparson.tumblr.com/).


End file.
